


A Pink Carnation and a Pickup Truck

by GenuineRisk



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Barbie Power Wheels, Beat Up Pickup Truck, Cheap Sunglasses, Crying Patrick, Get together fic, Grumpy Cat Face, High School Football, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mid-Winter Formal, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, broken fingers, minor dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineRisk/pseuds/GenuineRisk
Summary: “Fuck my life,” Patrick muttered to himself.Patrick could hear the familiar wheeze and stutter of the ancient Chevy coming up behind him as he walked along 16th Street toward Lake Yelenich Park. His eyes were wet and red and he wondered what his chances were of making it to the end of the sidewalk and ducking into the trees before Jonny could catch up to him. Again. He always seemed to be around to witness Patrick’s misery and humiliation, which really kind of sucked because Patrick was a proud boy and having Jonny see him like that made him feel nauseous and weird and he didn’t need that heaped on top of everything else right now.“Get in. Come on, Kaner, I know you hear me. Just get in and I’ll take you home. I’ll even sorta promise not to say anything. One time offer on that last part.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a High School AU and the boys all play football, not hockey. Patrick and Jonny are 16-year-old juniors; Sharpy, Crow and Abby are 17- and 18-year-old seniors. 
> 
> Montini Catholic High School is real, as is all the info/stats from their last State Championship season.
> 
> Patrick and Jonny are underage in this fic. While there is nothing explicit, there are references to a sexual situation with an 18-year-old. There might also be some implied homophobia, although it was unintentional--Sharpy is just a Big Giant Jerk, not a homophobe. It also isn't a big deal that boys date boys here. Rather progressive for a Catholic high school....
> 
> This fic is totally unbetaed--there wasn't enough time, so all errors are mine.
> 
> Title is from American Pie, by Don McLean.

It’s pretty safe to say that this was definitely _not_ how Patrick had planned to spend the evening, especially not after the monster 35-7 win they put up against Wauconda that afternoon to sail through the first round of the playoffs. _And_ it was Halloween, which should have meant enjoying the victory party, hanging with the guys, bonfire, beer, more beer, making out with Sharpy, not necessarily in that order. He should _not_ be walking home alone, _crying_ , wondering what the fuck.

 

Patrick was playing for the best high school football team in the Chicago area, maybe the entire state. They were undefeated this season, solidly on pace for Montini Catholic High’s sixth State title in eleven years and its first perfect season ever. He’d been given a scholarship right out of eighth grade for his speed and his hands and three years later, he had yet to disappoint. Patrick was _good_ , dammit, the best running back in the conference. He ran for the first two touchdowns in today’s game and technically, that made his second one the game winner, not that he’d ever say it out loud or anything, but he sure as fuck says it to himself. He was smart, funny, _damn_ fine looking. Hell, he was dating the quarterback, who was not only a senior, but also the best looking guy in school. It should have been one of the happiest days of his life.

 

“Fuck my life,” Patrick muttered to himself.

 

Patrick could hear the familiar wheeze and stutter of the ancient Chevy coming up behind him as he walked along 16th Street toward Lake Yelenich Park. His eyes were wet and red and he wondered what his chances were of making it to the end of the sidewalk and ducking into the trees before Jonny could catch up to him. Again. He always seemed to be around to witness Patrick’s misery and humiliation, which really kind of sucked because Patrick was a proud boy and having Jonny see him like that made him feel nauseous and weird and he didn’t need that heaped on top of everything else right now.

 

“Get in. Come on, Kaner, I know you hear me. Just get in and I’ll take you home. I’ll even sorta promise not to say anything. One time offer on that last part.”

 

“I’m good, Jonny, but thanks,” Patrick called over his shoulder in his best game voice. He wiped at his tears and picked up the pace, so not wanting to be caught crying by his teammate. It was bad enough he even _knew,_ no fucking way he was gonna let Jonny see him bawling over it as well. He wasn’t in the mood to be glared at or worse, lectured, and Jonny’s truck was about to run out of road, so he thought he had a good shot at avoiding both if he just kept moving.

 

“Fuck that shit, Pat, just get in. Not gonna leave you out here especially on Halloween so you can be gutted in the weeds by a serial killer and then we won’t win any more football games or the title and everyone will _hate_ the memory of you for ruining our season,” Jonny went on, sliding his truck into park at the end of the street. “Is that what you want? Come on, don’t make me come after you ‘cause you know I will and if you make us late for the bonfire, I’m punting your scrawny ass straight through the uprights.”

 

Jonny was well aware that Pat’s ass really wasn’t scrawny. He'd spent the better part of three years discreetly oogling and memorizing it, fantasizing all sorts of....stuff... starring Pat's ass.

 

“Who you frontin’, you can’t kick for shit. Your giant ass won’t let your leg swing up high enough. And I’m not going to the stupid bonfire, so, okay. Guess I’ll just see you at practice tomorrow.” Patrick was pretty proud that his voice didn’t crack, in spite of his current situation.

 

“At least I _have_ an ass, fuck you very much, and what do you mean you’re not going? Of course you’re fucking go...” Jonny’s voice was drowned out by the sound of his door opening so he could climb out. The noise it made was the stuff of nightmares, only louder and scarier. It reminded Patrick of Freddy Krueger dragging his fingers down the basement wall just before he disemboweled some poor idiot wandering around in the dark down there. “Yeah, gotta get that fixed. It's on my list.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Jonny, how can you even be seen in that lame ass pile of shit? It’s like your parents don’t love you _at all_ letting you drive around in that. I’ll give you my bike, man, or better yet, my sister’s old power wheels. Jess won’t care. It’s got a removable hard top and will save you a shit ton in gas and oil. And with those bangin’ Barbie flames across the hood, I bet you could probably still pick up in it or what the fuck ever. Beats the fuck outta whatever that is you got going on over there,” Patrick snarked. Jonny just gave him The Look and shook his head, but Patrick kept right on going. He told himself it was better than crying.

 

“Seriously, man, don't worry about me. Don’t you have, like, an igloo to build or a beaver to skin or a moose to, I don’t know, _whatever_ you Canadians do to moose?” Patrick never missed a chance to make fun of the fact that Jonny was born and mostly raised on the Northern side of the border.

 

“Fuck you, Kaner. Canada is a proud and mighty land. You should _be_ so lucky to be Canadian.” Jonny’s mouth was doing this little twitchy thing where it tries really hard not to curve into a grin and usually just ends up looking dumb. “And knock it off about my ride. I bought her myself, with my own fucking money, and she gets me where I need to go. And apparently you, too. Now get in, princess, _we_ need to get home and change sometime today. We’re gonna be late to our own party and that is _not_ cool.”

 

Pat stood facing him, eyes boring into his, and Jonny thought he was going to launch into all the reasons why he didn’t need to show up at the team’s victory party that night and why Coach Q would just have to deal with it along with everyone else or hey, maybe he’d at least bitch at him for calling him princess. But nope, the boy was so done, couldn’t hold it in any longer no matter how badly he wanted to. His head dropped, his shoulders slumped and his silence just went on and on and on. Jonny didn’t…he didn’t know what to do. Not when Patrick pushed a hand into the mop of curls at the back of his head and twisted hard. _Definitely_ not when a tear slid slowly down his cheek. 

 

Jonny was a little stunned. He’d never seen this reaction from his friend before, at least not over some guy, and he didn’t like the way it made him feel, like he was being pulled in way too many directions all at the same time and he didn’t know what to do or how to act or what to say. He wanted to cry, himself, because his heart was breaking all apart in his chest for Patrick. But at the same time he wanted to crush him in his arms and just hold him until he smiled again because seriously, was there anything better than Pat’s smile? Not in Jonny’s world. Mostly, though, he _really_ wanted to bury his fist right in the perfectly perfect mouth of Pat’s supposed boyfriend, Sharpy, because this was _all_ his fault and he was a nasty steaming shit for treating Patrick so badly and making him cry and maybe if he hit him hard enough all his teeth would fall out, except for one or two, and he’d look really, really stupid and _nobody_ would want to date him.  

 

“Yeah, okay, just take me home and…yeah…thanks, Tazer.” Patrick’s voice was quiet and uneven and he rubbed at his eyes as he walked over to the truck.

 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going? Get in the back, Goldilocks. You disparage my awesomely great homeland, your ass can ride in the back. No cab for you. Besides, you fucking _stink,_ like, for real.” Jonny called out as Patrick reached for the door handle. He just wanted to try and ease the tension and maybe make Pat feel a little less miserable. Who was he kidding? He just wanted to see him smile again.

 

Jonny was pretty sure he saw a little grin on Pat’s face as he flipped him off and climbed in the cab anyway. He took it as a small victory and pulled open his own door. The resulting screech of metal on metal was truly awful and gave Patrick something else to focus on.

 

“Oh my God, _Jonathan_ , that is even _more_   _horrific_ up close and personal. Fix that shit, man, before every cat in the neighborhood is over here trying to hump your fucked up truck. Bet that power wheels is sounding better and better right about now, isn’t it?” Patrick’s eyes were still a little wet and red, but at least his sarcastic mouth was making a comeback.

 

It took a couple tries, but Jonny got his truck started and into gear and began the short drive to Pat’s house. He was watching him out of the corner of his eye as Patrick absently worked a finger into the hole in the seat leather between them, twisting and pulling at the edges. Jonny’s stomach lurched and he could feel his cheeks pinking up at the direction his dirty, dirty mind was taking. Trying to distract himself, he debated whether or not to keep his promise of not saying anything about what he walked in on earlier between his friend and that ass lapper, Sharpy. Yeah, so Jonny Toews wasn’t exactly known for his ability to keep his mouth shut.

 

“You know you’re too good for him, right? He doesn’t deserve you and you sure as hell don’t deserve him. Fuck, _no_ one deserves him. Team captain or not, he’s a fucking dick, Pat, he really is. His head is so far up his ass it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t choke to death every time he takes a shit. I just can’t figure out what you see in him.”

 

“Jon…” Patrick didn’t get the chance to say anything else.

 

“I know, I know. I promised to shut up about it and I will. I just want you to know that _I_ know you can do so much better than him. Fuck him and fuck how he treats you and that’s all I’m gonna say about it. For now. So listen up, I’m dropping you off and you’re showering and changing and I’ll be back in an hour and you’ll be ready to go, right?”

 

“I don’t wanna go. I know you heard us fighting. I can’t go.”

 

“Bullshit, you’re going. It’s our victory party, you scored the winning TD, and you absolutely will _not_ give that donkey the satisfaction of not showing up. Fuck that, Pat, I’ll be back in an hour and you better be ready. And don’t forget it’s Halloween. Think I’m gonna dress up as a football player. Think you should do the same eh.”

 

“You’re such an asshole,” Patrick said as Jon pulled over in front of his house. “Thanks for the ride and the lecture, _dad._ I’ll take it under advisement.”

 

“Any time, princess,” Jonny smiled, his middle finger standing tall and proud in Patrick’s face. “One hour, Kaner, I mean it.”

 

The party went pretty much as expected-- hanging with the guys, bonfire, beer, more beer, everything but the making out with Sharpy part. Pat’s boyfriend didn’t seem to want much to do with him, barely even acknowledged Patrick was there, which was better than the shouting match Jonny walked in on earlier. Even though he didn’t have anything to say to him, Sharpy never seemed to let Patrick very far out of his sight and shot eye daggers at anyone who spent more than a few minutes talking to him, which was mostly Jonny.

 

It was well after dark when Sharpy made his way over and started bugging Patrick to take a walk. It took a while and a lot of bugging, but he eventually talked him into going around the back side of the gym, way out of sight of any prying eyes. Now it was Jonny doing the death stare at the back of Sharpy’s head as they walked away. Yeah, there was a little making out, but not much before the older boy pushed Patrick down to his knees, unzipped his jeans and buried his hands in all those blond curls. When he was finished, Sharpy kissed him on the cheek and walked away without so much as a backward glance. Patrick just sat there and cried until his tears ran out and then walked back to find Johnny and asked him for a ride home. Jonny didn’t say a word about his red puffy eyes and mouth or his blotchy face or his wrecked hair or the fact that he just saw Sharpy leaving with that senior cheerleader, Abby. He kept it all to himself as he and Patrick climbed into his truck. Pat didn't even flinch at the sound of Jonny's door.

 

Pat kept quiet and sat looking out the window into the dark. Jonny felt all kinds of guilty. He pretty much forced Patrick into going to the party and he knew something bad had happened between him and Sharpy and maybe it was kind of his fault. He thought so anyway and just wanted to try and make it right.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jonny asked and even to his own ears he sounded awkward and stilted. He knew he wasn’t so great with the whole talking about feelings thing, but it was Pat and he had to try.

 

Patrick didn’t say anything and when Jonny looked over at him again, tears were streaming down his face. They rode the rest of the way to Pat’s house in total silence and all Jonny could manage was a mumbled _I’m sorry_ as he got out of the truck. Pat never let on he even heard Jonny.

 

Practice the next day was a nightmare. Patrick was ignoring Sharpy and Jonny seemed mad at the world. Sharpy was his usual self, though, and by the end of the session, he had Pat talking and even smiling a little. After practice, Sharpy took Pat to a movie, held his hand in the dark and fed him popcorn and Swedish fish. They didn’t talk about the previous night, but Patrick forgave him anyway and they kissed for a long time in Sharpy’s car in the back of the parking lot before he dropped Pat off at home just ahead of his curfew.

 

Back at school on Monday, Sharpy was standoffish with Patrick, barely spoke to him in the halls and then ate lunch with Abby and her cheerleader friends. Seemed Sharpy was still looking to have his cake and eat it, too, or however the saying goes. He and Abby talked a lot, smiled a lot and shared a bottle of iced tea. He'd even twirled her hair around his fingers _right in front of everybody_. Patrick wanted to throw up. This was definitely not what he expected after their date the previous night. He was a few tables away, eating with Jonny and some of the guys, but he lost his appetite and spent the rest of the lunch period glaring at Sharpy and Abby and silently daring Jonny to say _one word_.

 

Turns out there were many words Jonny wanted to say to him. Words like, _open your eyes, dumbass, he’s using you_ and _what the fuck, Pat, are you really that stupid_ and _just let him go, he’s graduating anyway_ and _you deserve someone who will fucking cherish you_ and _I’m right here, Pat, just give me a chance_ and _oh my god, I just want to push you up against the wall and lick your tonsils right fucking now._  Instead, he bit his tongue really, really hard, threw a grape tomato at Patrick and smirked when it bounced off his eyebrow and landed in his bottle of Gatorade. Patrick just looked at him and called him a dick before standing up to get rid of his tray.   

 

The rest of the week was more of the same. It seemed that Sharpy only had time for Patrick at the end of the day, mostly after practice when it was pretty much just the two of them. And then it was Pat he was talking to and smiling at, Pat’s hair he was playing with and Pat he was touching and kissing. They settled into a "hot and cold" pattern and Patrick was going along with it even though, a lot of the time, it seemed like Sharpy was just stringing him along. Jonny couldn’t understand what Pat was thinking and after several days of watching their very strange behavior, Jonny kind of wanted to punch both of them, but mostly Sharpy.

 

The next three weeks were _all_ about football and passed in a blur of intense practices and blow-out wins for Patrick and the team. They sailed right through the playoffs—Kaneland fell, then DeKalb then Prairie Ridge. Pat added seven more touchdowns to his stats and Sharpy broke the conference passing record and the Broncos were headed to States against Crete-Monee. It suddenly got real that they could actually do this, could pull off the very first undefeated season in school history and bring home another championship. They were treated pretty much like gods by the other students and Patrick thought it was great, mostly because Sharpy took to calling him Showtime and started to pay more attention to him during the school day. He even had Patrick eat lunch with him at the senior table. So what if it was only on the day that Abby had scheduled a college visit. Patrick was very confused. Jonny was royally pissed off.

 

On Tuesday morning, just when Jonny thought he’d _lose his_ _mind_ if he had to spend one more second watching the two of them together during their “on again” time, he'd heard that Sharpy closed his fingers in the trunk of his stupidly perfect Audi some time after practice Monday night and broke two of them. Jonny couldn’t stop smiling. Well, to himself anyway and he didn't even feel bad. He hoped it hurt. A lot. At least as much as he’d hurt Patrick over the past couple of months. And then he remembered Sharpy was their quarterback and the championship game was in four days and you can’t throw a ball with broken fingers on your throwing hand which meant the backup quarterback was a go. _Jonny_ was the backup quarterback. He’d be the one calling the plays and managing the field for Saturday’s final. All the blood drained from his body in about a tenth of a second flat and he ran straight into the nearest bathroom and puked. Patrick was standing outside the door when he finally came back out, all sweaty and pale and gross looking.

 

“Can you even believe it about Sharpy? How does that even happen? And why now? The universe fucking sucks. The final game of his final season and he’ll be sitting on the bench watching Crow snap the ball to _you_. Holy fuck, Jonny, _you_. You’re in. Are you ready for this? We have to win. We _have to win_.” Thoughts of karma and bitches swirled in his head and then Jonny took one look at Patrick’s face, ran back into the bathroom and puked again. This time Pat followed him in.

 

“What the hell, Tazer, I didn't realize you found me so grotesque that the mere sight of my face makes you hurl. Nice. So, you look worse than shit. You’re not sick are you? You can’t be! You better be back to normal by Saturday! What are we gonna do if…” Jonny cut him off with a death grip to Pat’s upper arm. There will definitely be bruises.

 

“Stop. For fuck’s sake, just stop. I know all about Saturday, genius, and…and…no, I’m not sick, I’m just…” He stood there with wild eyes, flared nostrils and his mouth pressed into a perfectly straight line.

 

“Oh my god! The great and mighty Toews is puking up nerves! Right? Am I right? You’re freaking out about the game, aren’t you? This is awesome, man, it totally is. I thought for sure you were one of those, shit what do you call them, pod people? Aliens? Humanoids? Whatever one is devoid of all human emotion and feeling.”

 

“A robot?” Jonny croaked, trying to be helpful in spite of his meltdown. “Ha fucking ha, Kaner.”

 

“Nope, definitely not a robot. There’s no robot in existence that sweats as much as you and I think they might have more feelings. I’m sticking with humanoid. Whatever, this is great news, Jonny. Get all your heaving over with now because we have a championship to win in four days. It's all you now, all your show. Just chill, man. Seriously. I’ve been watching you play for three years now. Sure, you've been playing behind Sharpy, but you’re _ridiculous_. You know that, right? The things you can do with the _ball_ are ridiculous. It’s like magic, I mean it. Just trust yourself and trust me and we’re gonna do it. I know it. We’re gonna be like football _soulmates_  or something out there, Jonny. Believe it. No one is taking this away from us.” Patrick was on a roll and just kept right on going, totally ignoring the disturbing shade of green Jonny was now sporting.

 

“And if you ever tell Sharpy what I’m about to say, I swear to god I’ll punch you right in the balls _so fucking hard_. But you’re so much better than him. Sure, he’s great and all, but he doesn’t _feel_ it. It’s just something he does because it gets him things he wants. You, though, you _love_ it. It’s part of you and it _means_ something. So yeah, just trust in it. We’re gonna _do_ shit out there, Jonny, awesome shit. Know it, man, and own it. Come on, Tazer, wipe your face and fix your hair and let’s go. I think we totally just blew off homeroom, but if we move, we might make it to first period before the bell.” Patrick peeled Jonny’s fingers from around his arm and started pulling him down the hall toward their classroom, not even realizing he was still holding his hand when they walked through the door.

 

Jonny was acutely aware, however, and the tingly feeling in his fingers didn’t go away for a long, long time. Neither did that big hollow pit in his gut and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that he just puked his brains out twice.

 

Practice was interesting that afternoon. Jonny was wearing the red quarterback pinnie and Sharpy was pacing up and down the sideline cradling his splinted fingers and calling out plays and instructions _nonstop_. Jonny couldn’t concentrate and he couldn’t seem to connect on a single throw or pass out there. He couldn’t even catch a snap. He was clearly rattled by the older boy's unwanted attention. He finally snapped and yelled at Sharpy to shut the fuck up and sit down. Coach Q did the same, reminding the senior who it was running the show there, and that it sure the _fuck_ wasn’t Sharpy.

 

Patrick just stood quietly on the field, looking back and forth between Jonny and his boyfriend with a weirdly blank expression on his face.

 

Jonny settled down after his little outburst and things started falling into place. He still felt nauseous, but his throws were on target and he only got sacked once. He even managed to run the ball himself for a bunch of first downs. All in all it ended up being a good practice and he felt better about everything as they all headed back to the locker room to change and watch some game film. When Coach finally sent them all on their way, Patrick gave Jonny a quick nod and a thumbs up before leaving with a still-sulking Sharpy.

 

Thursday and Friday flew by and Jonny got better and better out on the field. The guys were behind him 100% and it showed in how well they were playing. Even Coach Q was smiling, or at least what passed as smiling for him. It’s like he thought his face would crack or something if he did it for real. Everything was _crazy_ and Jonny never had the chance to talk to Patrick about the whole puking thing and all that stuff Pat said to him afterward. And Jonny really wanted to. He at least wanted to thank him and let him know that it _mattered_. But he could never get even five minutes alone with him. Sharpy appeared to be attached to Pat's hip right up until the team bus left Montini for Huskie Stadium on Saturday morning. And of _course_ Sharpy sat his perfectly perfect ass in the seat right next to Patrick.

 

Twenty minutes into the one hour ride, Jonny walked up to Sharpy and told him to move, they were trading seats, that he had important game stuff to discuss with Patrick. Surprisingly, Sharpy just squeezed Pat’s knee and stood up without any argument, giving Jonny the I’m-watching-you sign. Jon responded with an icy glare and his grumpy cat face. Patrick snorted and rolled his eyes as he watched the two of them.

 

“Hey.” Jonny said as he sat down.

 

“Hay is for horses, Taze. What’s up? And quit making that face before yours freezes like that.”

 

“You’re such a lamer. Why do I even talk to you?”

 

“Because you fucking _love_ me. Duh. But really, what’s up? You look extra constipated today. You’re not gonna puke again are you? Because there’s no toilet on this bus and that would be really gross.”

 

“Fuck you, Kaner. I’m not gonna puke. I, um, wanted to just…um…”

 

“Oh my god, spit it out already!”

 

"Fuck you."

 

"You said that already, _Jonathan_. Anything else?"

 

“Yeah, sooo...thanks…for the other day…you know, when I was puking. And for all that stuff you said to me. It helped, sooo…that’s about it. Just...thanks.” Jonny’s face was flaming red and he felt like an idiot. He sounded like one, too.

 

“Christ, Jonny, how is it possible that you suck _so bad_ at this? Is it a Canadian thing or just a you thing? It’s not that difficult. Just watch my face and listen to my words. _So, Patrick, I never thanked you for the other day, for being there for me and being so supportive. It really helped a lot and all those nice things you said to me made me feel way better. Thank you, man, you’re such a good friend and I know you’re right and I want you to know that I really appreciate you._ ” Patrick was looking Jonny right in the eyes and Jonny was dying. He was pretty sure his neck and chest were now burning as well. “See? I didn’t burst into flames and neither will you. You should try it sometime. Wait, _wow_ , I didn’t think it was even possible to turn as red as you are right now. Holy shit, Tazer, on second thought maybe you _will_ burst into flames.”

 

“Blow me.”

 

“Yeah? Hand off the winning touchdown to me and you got yourself a deal.” Pat’s face was bright and shiny and Jonny knew he was just fucking around, but he wished _so much_ that he meant it. Before he could stop himself, his mouth started moving and very strange, un-Jonnylike sounds were coming out of it.

 

“Pat, everything you said to me, it’s true. The way I play, what it means to me, I love it. I really, really do.” Jonny reached over and grabbed Patrick’s hand, took a deep breath and just let it all go. “I love football. I love the game, I love the crowds, and yeah, I love the attention. I even love the idea of being a star. I can’t help it, it’s a beautiful thing, it’s just who I am. It’s how god made me and it’s how he made you, too. Because I know you feel the exact same way. I _know_ you do. And you’re right. We _are_ gonna win this and we _are_ gonna do awesome shit out there, Kaner. I know it. There’s no other way it can be. Sometimes the problem is that what’s gonna happen just isn’t up to you. And then fate takes a turn around the endzone, or breaks his stupid fingers in a stupid car trunk, and suddenly it _is_ all up to you…me. Brace yourself, Pat, because we’re about to go into one hell of a game. And we’re gonna fucking win it all.”

 

Patrick just stared at his friend for a moment in complete and utter shock, and then leaned in and grabbed his face and gave him a great big kiss right on the mouth. Jonny was pretty sure his heart stopped. Pat was pretty sure his did, too. Pat recovered first.

 

“Jonny! Holy _fuck_! You used your words, your big boy words! I’m so fucking proud of you!” He yelled right in Jon’s face, all obnoxious and trying to use his smart mouth and sarcasm to cover his embarrassment at having kissed Jonny right in front of the entire football team. Right in front of his boyfriend. So what if it only lasted for half a second?

 

Neither boy had noticed the total silence that descended as soon as Jonny had started his little soliloquy, nor that every person on the bus heard every word he said. So much for privacy, but what the hell? It made for a pretty effective pregame speech and then the whole bus erupted into thunderous applause and whistles and there was a lot of back-slapping and high-fiving going on. His teammates were now all hyped up for the game and ready to play and even Coach Q was smiling, like, an actual smile this time. And his face didn’t even crack. No one seemed any the wiser about what Jonny was _really_ trying to say, or the fact that Pat's kiss was anything other than a bro smack, except maybe Sharpy, who just sat and glared out the window, refusing to look at anyone.

 

And Patrick, of course. Jonny was pretty sure Patrick knew he wasn’t just talking about football, especially when Pat used the distraction of the surrounding chaos to lean in close to him and tell him how proud he was of him, for real, all bullshit aside, and how much everything he just said _meant_ to him.

 

“I mean it, Jonny. No apologies, no regrets. Let’s do this.”

 

And they did, at least out on the field. Jonny’s ball handling was nothing short of inspired and Patrick’s play was beyond _anything_.  The Broncos racked up 506 yards of total offense, 483 of them from Patrick and Jonny alone. Pat ended up with three touchdowns, opening the scoring on an 80-yard drive right up the center on the first play of the game, and then Jonny cruised down the sideline for a 64-yard touchdown late in the second quarter to give his team the lead going into halftime. They never looked back. Montini capped off their perfect season with a 38-15 win, a State Championship and a permanent entry in the State record book.

 

The boys walked into school Monday morning to a hero’s welcome. It was complete insanity and stayed that way for the better part of two weeks. Jonny was hoping his luck was going to change as far as Patrick was concerned, considering everything they’d just been through and all they’d accomplished together, but yeah, no. No luck. Sharpy was still in the picture. Jonny was certain he was on to him and knew damn well how he felt about Patrick and Sharpy was not one to just give up. Neither was Jonny. Sharpy’s resolve lasted for another two weeks until, well, until it didn’t.

 

Jonny bided his time as life marched on. Sharpy’s fingers healed, midterms came and went, Christmas break passed and finally plans began for the mid-winter formal that was to be held in early February. At Montini, it was all about the formal. It was way bigger than the prom and pretty much all anyone was talking about. Patrick just assumed he’d be going with Sharpy even though their “relationship” had now settled back into that frustrating hot and cold run from the fall. It seemed that the older boy was spending just as much time with Abby as he was with Patrick and he couldn’t speak for Abby, but Pat was getting pretty fed up with sharing his boyfriend, not to mention Sharpy’s inability to make an honest to god _commitment._ The only good part of all of it was that Patrick was now spending more time with Jonny. They played a lot of video games and did their homework together a couple nights a week. And they talked, a lot, and Jonny was okay with that because he would bet Patrick and Sharpy didn't do a whole lot of talking when they were together. That's pretty much where Jonny let his thoughts trail off because the thought of Sharpy doing _any_ thing else with Pat, touching Pat _at all_ , made him want to break things.

 

Some of Jonny’s favorite times that winter were spent driving around in his truck, just him and Pat, goofing around and talking about everything and nothing at all. It was like they were in their own little Sharpy-free world. The weather had been more than kind to the Chicago area that season, so the boys took advantage of it every chance they had. They explored a whole bunch of dirt roads, some little towns with dumb names, and Jonny even tried to teach Patrick how to drive. Some people just weren’t meant to drive, though, and Jon was pretty sure Patrick was one of them. Whatever, he still gave it a shot. If nothing else, it provided hours of free entertainment and one of his best memories _ever_ was the look on Pat's face the day Jonny tossed a fat Chicago phone book on the seat for him to sit on. He paid for that one for days, but it was totally worth it.

 

“Hey Pat, remember when you offered to give me your sister’s power wheels back on Halloween? You maybe wanna rethink that offer.” Jonny said to him one afternoon right after Patrick damn near drove them into the side of a barn. It might be important to note that the barn was nowhere _near_ the road....

 

“Why's that?”

 

“Uh, why do you think, dumass? I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

 

“Yeah. Fuck you, Tazer and fuck your stupid truck. It’s not _my_ fault it won’t go where I steer it. It’s probably fucking broken or something.”

 

“Or something. Turn her off and give me my keys. Right now. You are the absolute _worst_ and you are never getting behind my wheel again.”

 

“Wanna bet, fuck face?” Pat turned to look at Jonny. He was smiling and his eyes were that happy, happy shade of blue that just did it for Jon. He couldn’t look away if he tried, which he didn't.

 

“Jonny, are you alright? You’ve got that look on your face like you’re gonna puke again. What’s wrong? Come on, I wasn't really gonna crash your truck.” 

 

“I’m…I wanna…I think I’m…fuck, Pat, I really wanna kiss you right now.” And he did, so slow and so sweet that Pat was practically _humming_ into his mouth after the initial shock. Sure, Pat kissed him on the bus that morning all those weeks ago, but that was just a peck and didn't really count. _This_...this was _exactly_  what Jonny had been imagining for the past three years, fucking _perfect_ , and he never wanted to _not_ feel Pat's mouth on his. He couldn’t understand, then, why Pat suddenly stopped and pulled away.

 

“Jon, hey. Jonny. I don’t think we should do this, not when I’m with…it wouldn’t be right, you know? I’m sorry, I'm really sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Patrick couldn't look at him.

 

“You didn’t do anything, Pat, I’m the one who’s sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking.” Jonny couldn't _not_ look at Pat.

 

“Yeah. Same. Here’s your keys. I think we need to go home now.” Pat handed him the keys and pushed open the door which, thankfully, had been fixed and didn’t make that godawful noise anymore.

 

They switched sides and drove to Pat’s house in silence and Jonny spent the entire time bitching at himself in his head for fucking things up and probably making it weird between them. It was a relief when they finally turned onto Pat’s street.

 

“Jonny, for fuck’s sake, knock that off. I can hear you plain as day you know. We’re all good. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? It's alright.” He got out of the truck and stood looking at Jonny for a moment before saying, “And let’s not pretend that I didn’t kiss you back because we both know that I did. Goodnight, Jon. Be careful driving home. Mean it, we're all good.”  

 

Okay, so it was only a little bit weird the next day at school. They both got through it and neither boy brought up The Kiss. Sharpy, unfortunately, was none the wiser.

 

It was a week later when Jonny heard through the grapevine that Sharpy was planning on taking Patrick _and_ Abby to the dance with him. He wondered just what Pat thought about _that_ shit show or if he even knew and right then and there he decided to tell him next time they talked. And he didn’t really know Abby or have an opinion of her one way or the other, but he kind of hoped someone was doing the same for her. What he _did_ know was that he was sure Sharpy didn’t deserve either one of them. Really, what kind of an asshole even _thinks_ of taking two people to the same dance? It just wasn’t right. Nothing about Sharpy was right, at least not for Pat.

 

Apparently Abby didn’t think it was right, either. When she found out about Sharpy’s plan, she promptly asked Crow if he wanted to be her date and of course he said yes. She hasn’t spoken to Sharpy since. Jonny was really hoping that Pat was as smart as Abby and would ask _him_ to the dance. Pat didn’t ask.

 

So Jonny asked Pat. Well, not _asked_ , exactly.

 

Jon waited until the final bell before he asked Patrick if he had time to discuss something important. 

 

“What’s up, Tazer?”

 

“You hear about Abby?” Jonny cut right to the chase.

 

“I did.”

 

“And what do you think?”

 

“What kind of question is that? I _don’t_. Why even would I? What’s this about, Jon?”

 

“I, um, maybe…”

 

“ _Jonathan,_ use your big boy words,” Patrick interrupted him.

 

“Fine. So, I was thinking. After the whole Sharpy/Abby thing maybe you shouldn't go to formal with him either. Let him sit home alone and think about what a douche he is and what a shitty thing it was to do to you and to her. Sooo, I was gonna ask you if you maybe wanna go with me instead, but now I’m not because we both know you’d shoot me down and that would suck big sweaty balls and I don’t wanna...I can't...So, yeah, I have a proposition for you.” Jonny was mostly proud of himself for getting all the words out pretty much the same as he’d said them in his head.

 

“I’m listening,” was all Patrick said. His expression was unreadable.

 

“I know you’re with Sharpy and you must have some pretty strong feelings for him to put up with all the shit he’s thrown your way this past year. I get that. I guess. But I think you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he gives you. Gotta admit I never kept that a secret. And I think maybe _we_ might have something special, Pat, if you’d just give us a chance.”

 

“So, the proposition?” Patrick prompted with his usual lack of tact. He decided it wasn't the time to elaborate on or even acknowledge the whole him and Jonny getting together thing that just came out of Jonny's mouth.

 

“Yeah. So the formal's theme this year is _Summertime, Sunshine, Cheap Sunglasses_ —cool as shit, by the way, props to the committee on that one. Anyway, I'll be there and I'll be wearing a pink carnation and a pair of Ray-Ban knock-offs or something. If you show up wearing the same, I’ll know you’re there to be with _me_. If you show up with _Sharpy_ , then Sharpy it is. Not much explanation needed there. What do you say, Kaner? You in?”

 

He wasn't going to admit it to Jonny, but Patrick thought it was the bravest thing ever that he put himself out there like he just did. He knew what he wanted and was going for it, taking a chance. He was fairly certain he wouldn't have the guts to do that, no matter how much he might want to, and the fact that Jonny did, well, it went a long, long way in his favor. And really, Jonny had a point and maybe Pat was finally ready to explore it and see where it took them. He hadn't forgotten the kiss they shared in Jon's truck last week. Patrick was looking at him in a whole new light, pretty sure about what he was going to do, but he decided to have a little fun with him just because Pat could be a little shit that way, and he really just liked fucking with Jonny every once in a while. He stood staring at Jonny for several long seconds before replying, and when he did it was accompanied by his patented shit-eating grin that he had absolutely perfected in his sixteen short years. 

 

“A pink carnation? Hmmm. Very interesting, Jonny, and what I _actually_ mean by that is, you are such a fucking dork, Toews _._ _I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck_ _…_ Shit _._ Canadian boy. American Pie. Yep, very interesting indeed...Fuck it, I’m in, just as long as you promise to accept my decision, whatever it turns out to be.”

 

“I promise, Pat, just as long as _you_ promise to never sing that song again. Or _any_ song for that matter. Pretty sure my ears are bleeding.”

 

“Fuck you, Jonny, I’m an _awesome_ singer. You’re just jealous of all my awesomeness, admit it.”

 

“—said no one ever, oh my god, Goldilocks.”

 

“Your dickishness is not attractive, _Jonathan_. Be better.”

 

“Did you just quote me to _me_ , Patrick? Really?” Jonny actually _giggled_  and Patrick had to look up to see if the sky was falling.

 

“Just trying to stroke that massive ego and stay on your good side,” Patrick teased. “You know, you’re pretty hot, for a dork anyway. I wouldn’t be wasting my time otherwise.” 

 

“I’m fucking irresistible,” Jonny corrected him. “And you _know_ it.”  

 

The night of the dance finally arrived and by 7pm the gym was packed. Music was blaring, lights were strobing and bodies were writhing all over the place. It had all the makings of the typical high school orgy. Jonny was a nervous wreck.

 

He tried to stay in the vicinity of the front doors, but it was impossible to not be swept away in the massive sea of bodies. So he went with it, flowing from space to space, talking with friends and teammates and even teachers. Anything to keep his attention focused until Pat showed up, _if_ he showed up. And then he saw Sharpy making his way through the throngs of people. He couldn't quite make out his expression, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that if he was there, then of course Patrick was there with him. Why wouldn't he be? Jonny wanted to die and his stomach fell right out on the gym floor. How could he have been so wrong about everything, especially Patrick? He was so sure that Pat was ready to give him a shot, at least he thought he was. Jonny just wanted to cut and run and never leave his room again, but he promised Patrick he'd respect his decision no matter what, so he felt it'd only be right to stick around and shake his hand or something, let him know he understood even though he didn't and he never would.

 

It was a short time later, as Jonny was still standing around looking for Patrick and absently swaying to the music despite the crushing defeat coursing through his veins, that he felt a touch on his lower back. He tried to turn to shrug off whoever it was because really, he was in _no mood_. And then saw it was Patrick.

 

“Pat…” Jonny croaked as his stomach fell out on the floor for the second time that night. He knew right away that waiting around had been a mistake, that he wouldn't be able to shake his hand or whatever. _Fuck_ the right thing to do. It just hurt too much and he started thinking about bolting for the doors.

 

“Shh…. No talking. I wanna dance with you, Jonny. _Only_ you.” Patrick pulled him close and tucked his face against Jonny's neck, inhaling his scent like he needed it to breathe. His body was pressed tight to Jon’s from behind and his hands were splayed across his chest. They moved together, touching from shoulder to knee. Jonny was awkward at first, and then he wasn't. Their bodies were clearly having a conversation of their own right there on the dance floor and it was fucking awesome. Jonny instantly forgot everything else, all those horrible thoughts he'd just endured about Sharpy and Pat and the end of his world and bolting for the doors and never leaving his room again. Jonny was starting to _hope_.

 

"Is this even real?" Jonny’s voice was thick and low and made Patrick’s insides hot and twitchy. "You're teasing me again, aren't you?" 

  
  
“I’m just dancing, Jon, what are you doing?” Patrick asked, his voice just as low. He was still moving to the music and his body was still pressed tight against Jonny’s back. 

 

“What am I doing? Pretty sure I’m getting hard.” Jonny spun around, grabbed Patrick’s hips and pulled him up against his own. Patrick's arms wound around his neck.

  
  
“Wow, you sure are.” Patrick smiled slow and sexy and continued to dance with Jonny.

 

Neither of them noticed Sharpy standing nearby watching them with a look of complete surprise on his face even though Patrick had ended _everything_ with him the night before. His surprise gave way to anger and then resignation. Sharpy spun on his heel and made his way toward the exit like he was in a big ass hurry or something. He left alone and didn't come back. So much for Sharpy.

 

“You really _are_ teasing me.” Jonny said and kissed the top of Pat’s ear while Pat’s hands slid down over his ass and pressed them even closer together. “Do you have any idea what this makes me think of?”

 

“Ummmmm…doing all kinds of unspeakable things to me right here on the dance floor?” Patrick asked, not so much teasing anymore. He had one eyebrow raised and his lips parted just a little. He looked kind of dumb, but that didn't stop Jonny from thinking he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on in his whole entire life.

 

“Well yeah, _that_ and all those times I watched you in the locker room shower, water streaming through your hair and down your body.” Patrick could feel Jonny get even harder against him as he talked. “Fuck, Pat, you would have felt _so good_ pressed against me like this, both of us all wet and slippery.”

 

He wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed that he just admitted all that to Patrick, not even the part about watching him in the shower all those times. 

  
  
“Jesus, Jonny, now _you’re_ teasing _me_.” Patrick couldn't help the low moan that passed through his lips or the way his dick throbbed against Jon's.

  
  
“I never tease. It's against my religion. Or something.” Jonny leaned in and licked a line from the base of Patrick’s collarbone, up the front of his neck to his lips. He seemed to have forgotten he was in the middle of a very crowded gym.

  
  
“Jonny…” Patrick whispered, unsure of what was going to happen next, just as unsure of his ability to be able to stop things before they went too far on the dance floor.

  
  
“One kiss,” Jonny said as he lowered his mouth to Patrick’s. “Let me have just one. For now.” It was another slow, sweet kiss that had Patrick ready to melt into a great big puddle right there in front of Jonny and everyone else in the gym. Jonny ended it just as Pat thought that maybe it was time for them to go somewhere more private so they didn't get suspended, or worse, for public indecency.

 

“Don’t you wanna see what I’m wearing? Proposition? Remember?” Pat finally asked Jonny and pulled back an inch or two. He just wanted to make it official.

 

It was kind of moot at that point, but Jonny looked down and saw the slightly crushed pale pink carnation pinned to Pat’s jacket, as well as a pair of cheap tacky sunglasses hanging off of his pocket. His heart soared. The flower matched his own perfectly, rumpled and pink, and Jonny was _so fucking happy_. He wrapped Patrick up tightly in his arms and swore to himself that he’d never let him go. Maybe he swore it to Patrick, too, and why not? He was sure that this was right where he belonged, where they both belonged. It had been a long time coming and he would _not_ fuck it up.

 

“Let’s get out of here," Jonny whispered against Patrick’s ear. “There’re so many things I wanna do to you, Pat, you don’t even know.”

 

“Yeah? Is that so? I think you might be surprised at what I know, Jonny Toews. How about we take a little ride in that heap of shit you call a truck and maybe I’ll let you find out. Maybe give that big bench seat a thrill or two before the sun comes up. Sound good?”

 

Jonny was out the door and pulling Patrick along behind him in mere _seconds_.

 

"Sounds like a plan," Jonny managed to get out just as he pushed Patrick up against his truck and kissed the breath right out of him before they climbed inside and drove away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 


End file.
